To Hell and Back Again
by Supervillegirl
Summary: What happened after Swan Song? Sam appeared under the light pole with a totally blank face. Here's my take on why he had a blank look.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

**I was looking through my old stories the other day, and I decided this prologue needed a recap with it. I love it so much better now! Enjoy!**

***********************************SN***********************************************

"Endings are hard," Chuck Shirley wrote on his computer in his latest _Supernatural _novel. "Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning…but endings are impossible."

***************************************************SPN**************************************************

_Dean Winchester walked up to the Impala in Bobby Singer's junkyard. His younger brother Sam sat on the hood, drinking a beer. Dean grabbed a beer out of the cooler and opened it, leaning against the hood._

"_Dean?" asked Sam. "What's going on?"_

_Dean hesitated a moment. "I'm in."_

"_In with?" asked Sam._

"_The whole 'up with Satan' thing," said Dean._

_Sam sat up in surprise._

"_I'm onboard," said Dean._

"_You're gonna let me say yes?" asked Sam in disbelief._

"_No," said Dean. "That's the thing. It's not on me to let you do anything. You're a grown—well, overgrown man. If this is what you want, I'll back your play."_

"_That's the last thing I thought you'd ever say."_

"_Might be. I'm not gonna lie to you, though. It goes against every fiber I got. I mean, truth is…you know, watching out for you…It's kinda been my job, you know? But more than that, it's…it's kinda who I am. You're not a kid anymore, Sam, and I can't keep treating you like one. Maybe I gotta grow up a little, too. I don't know if we got a snowball's chance. But…but I do know that if anybody can do it…it's you."_

"_Thank you," Sam told him._

"_If this is what you want…" began Dean. He looked at his brother. "Is this really what you want?"_

"_I let him out," said Sam. "I gotta put him back in."_

"_Okay," said Dean. "That's it, then."_

_***********************************************SPN****************************************************_

"You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can," Chuck wrote. "The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass."

***********************************************SPN******************************************************

"_This thing goes our way, and I…Triple lindy into that box…" Sam told Dean as they drove towards Detroit in the Impala, "you know I'm not coming back."_

"_Yeah, I'm aware," Dean said._

"_So, you gotta promise me something," said Sam._

"_Okay," said Dean. "Yeah, anything."_

"_You gotta promise not to try to bring me back," Sam told him._

"_What? No, I didn't sign up for that."_

"_Dean—"_

"_Your hell is gonna make my tour look like Graceland. You want me just to sit by and do nothing?"_

"_Once the cage is shut, you can't go poking at it, Dean. It's too risky."_

"_No, no, no, no, no. As if I'm just gonna let you rot in there."_

"_Yeah, you are. You don't have a choice."_

"_You can't ask me to do this."_

"_I'm sorry, Dean. You have to."_

_Dean stared at him. "So, then, what am I supposed to do?"_

"_You go find Lisa. You pray to God she's dumb enough to take you in, and you—you have barbecues and go to football games. You go live some normal, apple-pie life, Dean."_

_Dean just stared at the road in front of him._

"_Promise me," Sam pleaded._

_*****************************************************SPN***********************************************_

"This is the last Dean and Bobby will see of each other for a very long time," Chuck wrote. "And, for the record, at this point next week, Bobby will be hunting a rugaru outside of Dayton. But not Dean."

**************************************************SPN**************************************************

_Dean closed the trunk of the Impala, heading for the driver's door._

"_You goin' someplace?" asked Bobby as he walked up to the car with Castiel._

_Dean stopped at the driver's door._

"_You're gonna do something stupid," Bobby said. "You got that look."_

_Dean turned to the two of them. "I'm gonna go talk to Sam."_

"_You just don't give up," said Bobby._

"_It's Sam!" said Dean._

"_If you couldn't reach him here, you're certainly not gonna be able to on the battlefield," said Castiel._

"_Well, if we've already lost, I guess I got nothing to lose, right?" said Dean._

"_I just want you to understand," said Castiel. "The only thing that you're gonna see out there…is Michael killing your brother."_

_Dean thought for a moment and then looked Castiel in the eye. "Well, then, I ain't gonna let him die alone."_

_************************************************SPN*********************************************************_

"Dean didn't want Cas to save him," Chuck wrote. "Every part of him, every fiber he's got, wants to die or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise."

***********************************************SPN********************************************************

_Sam stumbled back from Dean, who collapsed against the side of the Impala in the middle of Stull Cemetery. Dean looked up at Sam, wondering why Lucifer had suddenly stopped beating the crap out of him._

"_It's okay, Dean," Sam told his brother. "It's gonna be okay. I've got him."_

_Dean stared at his brother in shock, stunned that Sam had finally won control over Lucifer._

_Sam dug in his jeans pocket, pulling out the Horseman rings—the key to Lucifer's cage. He tossed it onto the ground ten feet from him. "Bvtmon tabges babalon."_

_The rings sunk into the ground, opening up a giant, windy portal to Lucifer's cage in hell. Sam looked over at Dean one last time and looked back at the portal._

"_Sam!" Michael yelled in their brother Adam's body from behind Sam._

_Sam turned around to face him._

"_It's not gonna end this way!" yelled Michael. "Step back!"_

"_You're gonna have to make me!" Sam yelled back._

"_I have to fight my brother, Sam!" yelled Michael. "Here and now! It's my destiny!"_

_Sam looked over at Dean and made his choice. He raised his arms and closed his eyes, starting to fall backwards into the hole. Michael darted forward, grabbing onto Sam's jacket. Surprised, Sam opened his eyes and grabbed at Michael._

_Together, the two of them fell into the hole, tumbling down into hell. Light shot out of the hole as the portal closed itself, sealing Sam, Lucifer, Adam and Michael inside forever._

_********************************************SPN*****************************************************************_

"So, what's it all add up to?" Chuck wrote. "It's hard to say. But me, I'd say this _was_ a test…for Sam and Dean. And I think they did all right. Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God Himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well…isn't that kind of the whole point?"

***************************************************SPN***********************************************************

"_What are you gonna do now?" Dean asked Castiel in the Impala as they drove far away from Stull Cemetery._

"_Return to heaven, I suppose," said Castiel._

"_Heaven?" asked Dean._

"_With Michael in the cage, I'm sure it's total anarchy up there," said Castiel._

"_So, what, you're the new sheriff in town?"_

_Castiel smiled slightly. "I like that. Yeah, I suppose I am."_

"_Wow. God gives you a brand new, shiny set of wings, and, suddenly, you're His bitch again."_

"_I don't know what God wants. I don't know if He'll even return. It just…seems like the right thing to do."_

"_Well, if you do see Him, you tell Him I'm coming for Him next."_

_Castiel looked at Dean. "You're angry."_

"_That's an understatement."_

"_He helped. Maybe even more than we realize."_

"_That's easy for you to say. He brought you back. But what about Sam? What about me, huh? Where's my grand prize? All I got is my brother…in a hole!"_

"_You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace…or freedom?"_

_************************************************SPN*************************************************************_

"No doubt…endings are hard," Chuck wrote as he stared at his computer screen, smiling. "But, then again…nothing ever really ends…does it?"

****************************************************SPN******************************************************

Dean sat at a dining room table with Ben Braeden, the table covered with food. Ben's mother Lisa walked in, carrying a bowl of food. Dean looked pensive, distant and sad.

Lisa set the bowl down, looking at him. "You okay?"

Dean thought about it for a moment before looking up at her. "Yeah…I'm good."

As they went about their dinner, the light outside the house sparked and went out. A figure appeared under the light pole, staring through the window at the three eating their dinner. As he stared at the house, he seemed to frown slightly. He looked around him at the neighborhood, pulling out his cell phone.

Sam put the phone to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up. "Hey, it's me. I got a problem. I need you to pick me up." He gave the address before hanging up.

Sam looked once more at the three people in the house eating, especially staring at the guy.

_Why does he seem so familiar?_ Sam wondered before he shrugged and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

**Four months later…**

Dean stuck the plate of pancakes on the dining room table.

"What's this?" asked Lisa, walking into the room in her bathrobe.

"Ben's birthday," answered Dean. "Kid needs his birthday breakfast."

Lisa smiled. "You didn't have to do that."

"It was no trouble," said Dean. "My boss gave me the day off. Slow week. So I woke up early."

Lisa walked up and gave him a kiss. "You are amazing." Dean smiled. "You wanna go wake him up?"

"Okay," said Dean. He made his way to Ben's bedroom, sneaking in. He approached the bed and pounced on Ben, tickling him.

Ben jolted awake, screaming with laughter. "Stop! Stop!"

Dean laughed as he quit. "Happy 11th Birthday, buddy!"

Ben laughed as he sat up. "Do you have to wake me up like that?"

"Hey, I can't help it if you sleep like the dead," said Dean. "You're gonna sleep right through your surprise."

Ben's eyes lit up. "Surprise?"

"It's in the dining room," said Dean.

Ben sprang out of bed and rushed to the dining room as Dean followed. Ben stared with wide eyes at the pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast and chocolate milk. "Wow! Thanks!"

"You're welcome," said Dean. They sat down to eat. Dean looked up at Lisa. "Oh, and I'll take Ben to school. You take a few more minutes for yourself."

"You sure?" asked Lisa.

"Yeah," said Dean. "I need to run some errands anyway."

"Thanks, Dean," smiled Lisa.

As soon as breakfast was done, Lisa moved to clean up the table.

"No, you head to take a bath," said Dean. "I'll clean up."

Lisa smiled. "What would I do without you?"

"Find a biker dude, get married and drive off on his big black Harley," teased Dean.

Lisa laughed as she headed for the bathroom. "Have a good day at school, Ben!"

"Okay, Mom!" Ben called from his room.

Dean cleaned the table off and did the dishes. He grabbed the car keys. "Ben, time to go!"

Ben rushed into the living room, grabbing his backpack. "Ready!"

Dean and Ben headed out to the Impala, getting in. They arrived at the elementary school.

"Have a good day, Ben!" said Dean.

"Okay, Dean," said Ben as he got out.

Dean pulled away from the school, driving to the automotive store. He needed a new valve cover, new wipers, and a new spark plug for the Impala. As he exited the store with his purchases, he was digging in his pocket for the keys when someone bumped into him. He dropped his bag as the guy dropped his books.

"I'm so sorry!" said the guy as they bent down to pick up their things. "I should've been watching where I was going."

Dean grabbed the spark plug and valve cover. "It's okay. I wasn't looking either."

Dean looked up at the guy, but he was faced the other way, grabbing some stuff behind him. Dean could tell the guy was tall, even as he crouched on the ground. He also had dark brown hair that came halfway down his neck. Dean still hadn't seen his face. Dean turned and grabbed some books next to him, holding them out to the guy.

The guy grabbed the books. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Dean. "You?"

"I'm okay," said the guy. "Oh, here's your wipers." He turned, holding them out.

"Thanks," said Dean, turning to grab it out of his hand. His gaze went up to the guy's face. Dean froze, his hand still holding the wipers. "Sam?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two

**Then**

_Dean froze as he stared at the guy's face. "Sam?"_

**Now**

Sam frowned, tilting his head to the side. "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

Dean's eyes widened. _He doesn't remember me._ Dean shook his head, taking the wipers from Sam. "Uh, no. I don't think so. You just, uh…remind me of my brother." The two of them stood up.

"How'd you know my name?" asked Sam.

"What?" said Dean.

"My name is Sam."

Dean let his eyes widen a little. "No kidding. That was my brother's name."

Sam laughed. "Small world."

Dean continued to stare at him. "Apparently." Sam was looking at him weird, so Dean shook his head. "Sorry." He held his hand out. "I'm Dean Winchester."

Sam shook his head. "Sam Turner. I'll see you around."

"Yeah," said Dean. "See you."

Sam walked away as Dean stood on the sidewalk, staring at him. When Sam had reached the third store down, Dean pulled out his phone.

"Bobby," said Dean. "You know anything about Sam getting out of hell?"

"No," said Bobby. "Why?"

"'Cause I'm looking at him right now," said Dean.

"Are you sure it's him?" asked Bobby.

"I think so," said Dean.

"Tail him," said Bobby. "I'll be there tomorrow."

"Got it," said Dean. He hung up and hurried after Sam.

Sam walked down the sidewalk until he came upon a hospital. Dean followed him inside, watching as Sam emerged from the break room in blue scrubs.

"He's a nurse?" Dean muttered under his breath. Sam joined a small group wearing the same scrubs, and a woman in a white coat. Dean spotted a patch on all the scrubs. "Oh, he's going to Nursing school."

As Sam moved off with his fellow students, Dean left the hospital, waiting outside on a bench. He pulled out his cell phone, dialing the house.

"Hey, Lisa," said Dean. "You're gonna have to pick Ben up today."

"What happened?" asked Lisa.

"I think Sam's back," said Dean.

Lisa paused. "He's what?"

"I ran into Sam today," explained Dean. "But it was like he was a different person. He didn't recognize me."

"Do you know what happened?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," said Dean.

"Good luck," said Lisa.

Six hours later, Sam walked out of the hospital. Dean pretended to be watching people walk by.

"Hey."

Dean looked up at Sam, smiling a little. "Hey."

"Dean, right?" asked Sam.

Dean nodded. "And it's Sam."

"Yeah," said Sam. "It really is a small world. What are you doing here?"

"Felt like a walk," said Dean. "Pretty stupid, tough. Left my car by the automotive store."

"That's a lot closer than I have to walk," said Sam. "My place is all the way across town."

"Well, hey, do you need a ride?" offered Dean.

"Sure, thanks," said Sam.

Dean got up, and the two of them began heading down the sidewalk. "So, you volunteer at the hospital?"

"Uh, clinical," said Sam. "It's my junior year of the Baccalaureate program, and we spend one day a week there."

"Nursing school, huh?" asked Dean. "What made you choose that?"

"I don't really know," said Sam. "I had to pick something, so I chose Nursing and I seem to be enjoying it so far. The whole after-college plan kinda came later."

"What do you plan to do?" asked Dean.

"I want to be a surgical technician," said Sam. "I have a pretty strong stomach."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I bet."

"What?"

"Nothing. So, surgical technician…"

"Yeah. I mean, I want to help people. This seemed the easiest way to do it."

"Easy?" Dean said with a skeptical look.

"Well, hospitals prefer nurses with a Bachelor's degree instead of an Associate's, which means I'll get a job quicker. And being a nurse, I'll be getting a lot of money to pay off the loans."

"What do you do at clinical?"

"We get a patient that we take care of all day. We take their vital signs every four hours, do bed baths and linen changes, monitor IV fluids, monitor their intake and output, head-to-toe assessments, administer medications…you know, anything they might need."

"You do all that?"

"Well, whatever pertains to our patient that day. In fact…" Sam laughed, "my patient today was a prisoner from Cicero Corrections Facility. So his left hand and both feet were cuffed to the bed. I figured I'd skip the linen change. I had no clue how to work around those cuffs."

"What was he in for?"

"Cirrhosis secondary to Hepatitis C."

Dean frowned. "Which is geek-speak for what?"

Sam laughed. "Sorry. Nursing lingo. His hepatitis is killing his liver, which is what is causing his ascites. Ascites is accumulation of fluid in the peritoneal cavity—which is the abdomen."

"Wow," said Dean. "That is way too much terminology for me."

Sam laughed. "We talk like that all the time. I don't even realize I'm doing it anymore."

"What do you do when you're not in school or clinical?"

"Homework mostly," said Sam. "I mean, Nursing school is pretty time-consuming. But, I find time every now and then. I read books mostly. Sometimes I play our piano."

Dean froze, staring at Sam. "You play the piano?"

"Yeah," said Sam, stopping also. "Been playing for about ten years."

Dean still stared at him. "You play the piano?"

Sam laughed. "You sound surprised."

"I am," said Dean. "I mean, who knew you were good at music?" Dean caught himself. "'Cause I mean, usually academic people don't have artistic hobbies."

"Well, I guess I'm the one that breaks pattern."

"Yeah," said Dean as they began walking again. "You really play the piano?"

Sam laughed. "Why the intense interest in me? Let's switch over to you."

"Alright."

"What do you do? College?"

Dean laughed. "Yeah, right. I, uh, I'm a mechanic."

"How'd you get into that?"

"My dad kinda taught me. He'd been a mechanic when I was a kid, and he taught me everything about cars."

"What kind of car do you drive?"

"'67 Impala."

Sam glanced over at him, a smile on his face. "Oh, man, I gotta see that."

Dean looked at him. "Really?"

"Yeah, that is one sweet set of wheels," said Sam. Dean laughed a little. "What?"

"Nothing," said Dean. "You just…you're not what I expected." Dean spotted an iPod in Sam's hand. "What are you listening to?"

Sam lifted his iPod, which was connected to the earbud in one of Sam's ears. "Billy Squier."

Dean froze again, staring at Sam as he stopped also. "Billy Squier?"

"Yeah, 'Lonely is the Night,'" said Sam. "It's classic rock."

"Yeah, I know," said Dean. "You listen to classic rock?"

"Yeah."

"Like what?"

"A lot of AC/DC and Foreigner. Some Styx, Kansas, Asia, Blue Oyster Cult, Bon Jovi—"

"Bon Jovi?"

Sam put up a hand in defense. "Hey, Bon Jovi rocks…on occasion." Dean began laughing. "What?"

Dean sucked in a lungful of air. "Oh, it's just, that's what I told my brother once," said Dean.

"Really?" laughed Sam. "That's great." Sam looked down at his iPod. "I take it you're a classic rock fan, too."

"Totally."

"Oh, you missed a great opportunity last week."

"What do you mean?"

"There was a concert in town last Friday. Foreigner, Styx **and** Kansas."

"No way! In person?"

Sam nodded. "Lasted four hours."

"Oh, how did I not hear about that? Did you go?"

"Yeah. Best night of my life."

"Oh, man," laughed Dean. "Think we can get them to come back?"

Sam laughed. "I don't think so."

"How was it?" asked Dean.

"Awesome," said Sam. "Kansas opened with Point of No Return. They did Dust in the Wind, Fight Fire with Fire, and Carry On Wayward Son. Then Foreigner came on. They played for, like, over an hour. I almost went deaf. They did all their good songs: Cold as Ice, Jukebox Hero, Star Rider, Hot Blooded, Head Games. Then Styx played. They did a few songs I didn't know, but they did Come Sail Away. I was really just waiting for Renegade. They left the stage, and I thought it was over, but they came back for an encore. They played two songs, the last one being Renegade. It was absolutely amazing!" They had reached the Impala, and Sam smiled. "Oh, that is a beauty."

"Isn't she?" said Dean, climbing into the driver's seat. Sam sat in the passenger seat. "Okay, only one rule in my car: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

Sam laughed. "Based on your taste in music, I think I can live with that."

Dean turned the car on, slipping in a tape and pressing play.

"_Gunter, glieben, glauchen, globen."_

Sam laughed as the drums started in. "I love this song. It goes perfectly with this car."

Dean smiled and pulled into the street. "Where do you live?"

"425 Main," said Sam.

"Hey, that's just down the street from my place."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Well, actually, it's my girlfriend's house, but she and her son took me in a couple months ago."

"What happened?"

Dean hesitated. "My, uh, my brother died. Or, at least, I thought he was dead." He began to think of a cover story. "He died in the hospital, but the doctors resuscitated him. But I wasn't told for a while."

"Oh, man, that's horrible," said Sam. Sam frowned. "So, let me get this straight. Your name is Dean, you have a brother named Sam, you like classic rock, and you drive a black '67 Impala?"

Dean frowned. "Yeah?"

Sam chuckled. "That is the biggest coincidence I've ever heard of."

"What?"

"That is exactly like this book series 'Supernatural.'"

Dean looked at him. "You read 'Supernatural'?"

Sam looked at him. "You do, too?"

Dean nodded. "I know that story backwards and forwards." He laughed. "So that's why you like my car and rock."

"Well, so do you."

Dean nodded. "True."

They reached the address Sam gave him. Dean spotted an older woman and a teenage blonde girl in the garden, weeding.

"You live _here_?" asked Dean.

"Well, it's my parents' house," said Sam. "I'm staying with them until school is done. That's my mom and my little sis Emily."

Dean looked at Emily and Mrs. Turner. "Seems like a nice family."

"It is," said Sam, opening the passenger door.

"Hey," said Dean. Sam looked back at him. "We're throwing a birthday party for my girlfriend's son tonight at five. Wanna come?"

Sam seemed to consider it. "Sure. What's the address?"

"286 Main," said Dean.

"How old is he?"

"Eleven."

"Okay, see you then."

"See ya, Sammy."

Sam frowned. "Did you just call me Sammy?"

"Yeah," said Dean hesitantly. _Did I just blow it?_

"Yeah," said Sam, wincing at the idea. "Don't."

Dean smiled. "Okay."

Sam climbed out of the car and walked up to the house, waving at his little sister. Dean watched as Sam's new mother wrapped an arm around him and gave him a peck on the cheek. Sam smiled at them, talking, and then went into the house. Dean pulled away from the house and headed down the street towards his house. As the Impala drove down the neighborhood street, the worry began to set in.

_What the hell happened to my brother?_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three

Dean walked into his house, heading into the kitchen, where Lisa was getting the party ready. On his way, he passed Ben at the dining room table, doing his homework.

"Hey, Ben," said Dean, ruffling the kid's hair. "How was school?"

"It was great," said Ben.

"Good," said Dean. He walked into the kitchen. "Hey."

Lisa looked up from frosting the cake. "Hey. How'd it go?"

"Well, it's definitely Sam," said Dean, helping her get paper plates and plastic forks out. "But it's like he has an entirely new set of memories. He remembers a different life. I mean, it's possible that the trauma from hell, or however he got back, or maybe he hit his head, can cause amnesia. But giving him new memories? No amount of trauma can do that, physical or mental. I just don't get it."

"Is he doing okay?" asked Lisa.

"Apparently. I mean, he's going to school, he has a great family…He seems to be doing great." Dean paused for a moment. "Oh, I, uh, invited him to the party."

"Great!" said Lisa. "When will he get here?"

"I don't really know. I just told him it started at five." Dean thought about it for a moment. "Well, Sam's always been punctual, so probably five." He froze for a moment. "We're gonna have to tell Ben not to recognize him."

"Okay, I'll tell him Sam has amnesia."

Dean took a breath. "Sorry I'm being so annoying. I just…Now that I've gotten him back, I don't want to scare him away."

"It's okay, Dean," said Lisa. "Whatever you need."

-SN-

The doorbell rang, and Dean made his way through the house full of kids towards the front door. He opened the door, and Sam stood there with a small wrapped box.

"Hey, Sam," said Dean. He held the door open for him.

"Hey," said Sam. He walked into the house, looking nervous. Dean closed the door as Lisa walked up.

"Hi," said Lisa.

"Hi," said Sam.

"Uh, Sam, this is my girlfriend Lisa," introduced Dean. "Lisa, Sam lives down the street."

"Oh," said Lisa. "Well, welcome, neighbor." She spotted the box in Sam's hand. "Oh, we have the presents on the dining room table right through there."

Sam nodded and headed to the table.

"Good acting," Dean muttered to Lisa.

"Thank you," said Lisa. Sam came back to them. "So, Sam, how was your summer?"

"Fine so far," said Sam.

There was a shout from the kids in the backyard.

"Excuse me," said Lisa. She moved off to deal with the problem.

Sam turned to Dean. "I knew I recognized you somewhere."

Dean's hope rose. "You did?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "Four months ago…I guess I must have gotten drunk or something. I found myself standing outside your house. No clue how I'd gotten there."

Dean's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah, the three of you were eating dinner," said Sam. "I didn't realize until I saw your house."

"And you just, like, woke up suddenly in front of the house?"

"Yeah. I mean, I guess the alcohol or whatever wore off. I called my sister to pick me up. I didn't trust myself to walk two blocks."

"And you don't know if you were drinking or not?"

"Yeah, it's weird. The last thing I remember clearly is studying for a final exam. Everything between that and your house is jumbled."

Dean tried to be casual about his questions. "Jumbled how?"

Sam thought for a moment. "I remember…an old graveyard…with this giant hole in the middle of it…"

_Stull Cemetery,_ Dean realized.

"I guess I must've visited my grandparents' grave, and they were building a new grave or something," Sam went on. "I also remember…chains."

Dean froze, his eyes widening.

"Something about chains," said Sam. "And something that smelled like rotten eggs."

_Hell,_ Dean realized. _He remembers hell._

Dean chuckled a little. "Man, forget alcohol. Sounds like you were smoking something."

Sam laughed. "I know. It's so crazy." He grabbed the collar of his shirt. "And then this." He pulled his collar down.

Dean frowned, looking closer. "Holy…"

Sam was wearing Dean's amulet, but that wasn't what shocked him. It was the burn underneath the necklace that caught his attention. It was the same size and shape as the amulet.

_He pulled it out of that trash can after I left,_ Dean thought. _And it burned him. Why would it…_

Dean thought back to last year.

"_I did come for something," said Castiel in Bobby's hospital room. "An amulet."_

"_An amulet?" asked Bobby. "What kind?"_

"_Very rare," said Castiel. "Very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him."_

"_A God EMF?" asked Sam. Castiel nodded._

"_Well, I don't know what you're talking about," said Bobby. "I got nothing like that."_

"_I know," said Castiel. "You don't." Castiel looked over at Dean, and then down at Dean's amulet._

"_What, this?" asked Dean._

Dean looked up at Sam. _God raised Sam._

"I guess I must've dragged it through the flames on a burner or something, and didn't realize it," said Sam.

"I bet that hurt."

"Actually, I don't remember."

"Well, that's good," said Dean. He looked back at the party. "How 'bout we say 'hi' to the birthday boy?"

Sam smiled. "Sure."

As Sam followed Dean towards the backyard, Dean's brain went into overdrive.

_If God raised Sam, then why can't he remember?_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four

Dean let Bobby into the house, closing the door behind them. "Hey, Bobby."

"Hey," said Bobby. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," said Dean.

"So, you're sure it's really Sam?"

"Positive. We talked yesterday, and he remembers parts of hell, but he thinks he was drunk at the time. God raised him, but Sam doesn't remember his life. He remembers this different life. I don't get it."

"It sounds as though God was doing him a favor."

"What do you mean?"

"Sam had sacrificed himself and willingly jumped into hell to save the world. I think God gave him a new life, a life where he doesn't remember hunting and demons and hell."

"That doesn't explain his new personality, though."

"New personality?"

"Yeah, he likes the Impala. And when I say likes, I mean he adores it. He listens to classic rock. He **always** hated my music. Although, I guess that could be because he reads Chuck's books."

"The 'car adoration' maybe, but I don't think that's the case with the music."

"Then what?"

"I don't think Sam has a new personality. It's still the same Sam, just with different memories. I think, deep down, Sam remembers that you listen to that music. So Sam, subconsciously, associates that kind of music with you. So he listens to it because it makes him feel better."

Dean nodded. "You know, that actually makes sense." He frowned. "So, underneath this new identity, Sam is still Sam?"

"Looks like," said Bobby.

"Hey, how'd you get here so quick?" asked Dean. "I thought you were working a job in Seattle."

"I was," said Bobby. "I started noticing demonic omens…in Cicero."

"So, they're after Sam?"

"Or you."

"Or both of us."

"You boys did make quite a name for yourselves in the demon community."

"So we need to get Sam back?"

"Looks like."

Dean sighed. "How do we do that?" The lights in the house began flickering. "That cannot be good."

The two of them rushed out the front door. They looked up to see three clouds of smoke soaring through the night sky towards Sam's house.

"No!" Dean yelled.

He and Bobby rushed to the Impala, and Dean drove down the street, racing the smoke. The demons plunged into the house as Dean parked on the street. He and Bobby pulled weapons out of the trunk and rushed to the front door. Dean kicked it in, rushing in with salt gun raised. The house was dark and silent…

"No!" Sam cried.

…almost silent.

Dean rushed towards the sound of his brother, finding Sam pinned to his bed. His sister, mother and father held him down as they prepared to stab him. Dean fired a round of salt into Mr. Turner's back. The demon yelled in pain as it turned to look at Dean, eyes black.

The demon smiled. "Well, look at this. Looks like I get two for the price of one."

"You might want to keep your receipt," said Dean. "You're not getting anything."

"I'm not leaving here without either one of you," said the demon.

"Oh, you're leaving alright," said Dean.

Bobby began reciting the exorcism. The three Turners yelled, and the black smoke flew out of their mouths and out the window. Sam sat up as the three of them dropped to the floor, unconscious.

"Oh, my God," said Sam. "That was…Those were…"

"Demons, yeah," said Dean.

Sam looked up at him. "It's all real? The books…the demons and ghosts…it's all real?"

"'Fraid so," said Dean.

"You're a hunter, aren't you?" asked Sam.

Dean knelt next to the bodies. "Yeah."

"Are they okay?" asked Sam, approaching his mother.

"Yeah, they're just unconscious," said Dean. He stood up. "Alright, you gotta come with us."

Sam looked up at him. "What?"

"Demons are after you," said Dean. "If you stay, your family will be in danger."

Sam looked down at his sister. "But…"

"As long as you stay, they will use your family to get to you," said Dean. "Until this problem is resolved, you need to come with us to save them."

Sam nodded. "Then I'm leaving a note."

"The demons will use it to track you."

"Just something to let them know I wasn't kidnapped or anything. Otherwise, they'll call the cops, and the demons can use them to find us."

Dean nodded. "Good point."

Sam grabbed a duffel bag, throwing some clothes inside. He threw it on his shoulder and grabbed a pad of paper and pen. Dean watched him write: Hey, went for a vacation. Cleared it with school. Didn't want to wake you. Sam.

Sam put the note on his door and followed them out to the Impala. He tossed his duffel into the trunk, spotting the hidden weapons cash. He smiled as he closed the trunk. He got into the passenger seat while Dean and Bobby sat in the car waiting.

"Man, you really do live those books, don't you?" laughed Sam.

Dean smirked as he started the car. "You have no idea." He pulled out of the driveway and headed out of town.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Five

Dean watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. Bobby was driving his car behind them. They were halfway to Bobby's house. Dean knew he needed to bring it up, but knew Sam wouldn't take it well.

"So, listen, we gotta talk," said Dean.

Sam looked at him. "Okay."

"To tell you the truth, you're probably not gonna like it," said Dean.

Sam frowned. "Then why are you telling me?"

"Because it's only fair," said Dean. "Because you'd do the same for me. Because I need your help. But to get your help, I have to tell you this."

Sam nodded. "So tell me."

Dean hesitated, taking a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._ "You're not who you think you are."

Sam's quizzical expression turned confused. "What?"

"You think you're Sam Turner, born and raised in Cicero, Indiana, with a mother, family and baby sis going to Nursing school, right?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah."

"But that's not who you are."

"So you're saying my memories are fake?" asked Sam skeptically.

"Yes," said Dean.

Sam's eyes widened. "Okay…stop the car."

"I know how it sounds."

"Great. Just stop the car."

"It's the truth, Sam. You were born in Lawrence, Kansas. Your father's name was John and your mother's name was Mary. Your real name is Sam Winchester. You're my brother." Dean looked at Sam to see him frowning. "Our mom was killed by a demon on your sixth-month birthday. Ever since then, Dad has taken us across the country to hunt supernatural monsters: ghosts, vampires, demons—" Laughter interrupted him. Dean looked over to see Sam laughing. "What's so funny?"

Sam sighed. "You almost had me there for a minute."

Dean frowned. "I did?"

"Yeah, the whole play on demons and the Impala and our names…Trying to make me think we're the brothers from the books."

"We are," said Dean.

Sam looked over at him, his smile fading. "You're serious?"

"As a heart attack," said Dean. Sam looked back at the road, beginning to panic. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. We **are **Dean and Sam Winchester."

Sam looked at him. "Last names were never in the books."

"Doesn't mean we don't have them," said Dean.

"This is insane. You do see that, right?"

"It's not." Dean shook his head. "Come on, think about it, man. How did I know your name? Why did I look so surprised to see you? I mean, before yesterday, I thought you were in hell."

Sam looked at him. "Now, that's where your story falls through. It was Dean that went to hell, not Sam."

"Dude, that last book happened two years ago. I mean, after all the times that you and I have died, and I **can't** come back from hell? I mean, I brought you back after you were stabbed on Cold Oak. Oh, and that." Dean pointed at Sam's chest where the burn was.

"What?"

"The amulet."

Sam pulled it out from under his shirt. "This? I bought it from a fan site. Besides, if you're Dean, you would have it, not me."

"I threw it away a couple months ago. You plucked it out of the trash. I mean, it burned you, for crying out loud."

"So?"

"So, it's a special amulet. It burns hot in God's presence. He's the one that raised you from hell."

"Then how'd I get in hell in the first place? For that matter, how'd you get out?"

"An angel named Castiel pulled me out, saying they had apocalypse duty for me. Lillith was breaking these seals. Long story short, the seals let Lucifer out of his cage, and he ran wild the past year. Then you came up with a plan: I was the vessel for Michael and you were the vessel for Lucifer. You said yes, Lucifer possessed you, you took back control and then jumped back into the cage. And it worked, so good job, Sammy."

"You're insane."

"You said you remembered a boneyard with a giant hole. That was Lucifer's cage door in the middle of Stull Cemetery in Lawrence. And then the chains and sulfur smell, that's hell."

"I was drunk."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

"Okay, look, this may have worked if I had complete amnesia, but I have an entire life of memories." Sam pulled out his wallet, showing Dean a photo of himself with his family when he was younger. "See? I have a family. This picture was taken when I was thirteen."

Dean looked at the photo, and his eyes widened. He looked back at the road. "I can prove it."

"You can?" asked Sam skeptically.

Dean reached into his back pocket, leaning up in his seat. He pulled out his wallet and handed it to Sam. "Read 'em and weep."

Sam opened the wallet and looked through several photos in it. One was of Sam and Dean when they were twelve and sixteen. Dean was sitting in the driver's seat of the Impala, holding up a new driver's license. Sam was in the passenger seat, smiling at the camera.

The next picture was Sam and Dean and John. Sam was five and Dean was nine. Sam was laying on a bed, laughing. Dean and John held him down, tickling him.

The last picture was Sam and Dean a couple months after Jessica had died. They were sitting on the hood of the Impala, laughing as they shared a beer.

Sam looked closely at the pictures. "These are flawless. There's no bleed over, no crops, no residual image. They're completely authentic." He stopped, looking up at the road. "How did I know all that?"

Dean laughed. "What I've kept telling you, Sammy. Sooner or later, you gotta face up to who you really are: one of us."

Sam looked at him. "You're telling the truth, aren't you? We really are brothers."

"Yeah," said Dean.

Sam looked down at the photo of his new family. "So…my family…isn't my family?"

Dean shook his head sadly. "No." Sam leaned forward, pulling his shirts away from his back and reaching his other hand up under them. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing if I can feel the scar," Sam replied, moving his hand up and down his lower spine.

Dean smiled a little. "You won't. When I came back from hell, all my old scars were gone. I'm betting the same goes for you. But, hey, I bet you still got that demon protection tattoo on your chest."

Sam sat back in his seat. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that." He pulled his shirt away from his chest and peered down at the tattoo. "This thing really keeps demons out?"

"Yep," said Dean.

Sam glanced back at Bobby's car. "He's really Bobby?"

"Yep," Dean repeated.

Sam looked at him. "You're really Dean?"

"And you're really Sam," said Dean. "Boy, I'm glad we got that straightened out."

Sam laughed. "Man…"

"What?"

"Well, I mean, the things we've been through…the things **I've** been through that I can't even remember…"

Dean chuckled. "And you don't even know the second half of the story."

Sam turned to him. "So enlighten me."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Six

A couple hours after spilling their entire life story, Dean parked in front of Bobby's house, putting the brake on and shutting the car off. Sam huffed a small chuckle.

Dean looked at him. "What?"

"It's just…" said Sam. "This is Bobby's house. I mean, all the things that Sam and D—" Sam broke off, realizing his mistake, "that **we** have been through here. I mean…this is where we exorcised Meg…twice. This is where we locked Ruby in the devil's trap in the basement. This is where you guys locked me in the panic room." Sam shook his head. "It's kind of weird."

"Well, you brought your weird to the right place," said Dean. He got out of the Impala, and Sam followed him.

Bobby walked up to his house, unlocking it and showing the two brothers inside. Dean and Sam walked into the living room, and Bobby handed them two beers.

"So, everything straightened out?" asked Bobby.

"Yeah," said Sam. "I know everything."

"Good," said Bobby. He nodded in sympathy. "You must be confused as hell."

"Sort of," said Sam. "I mean…the books are fiction, so this life seems real. But with Dean's proof…now this life is obviously fake." He shook his head. "I just don't know what to think anymore."

*************SN*******************

Sam walked down the basement stairs with a beer, taking a break. He walked around the basement, searching the stored junk. (And yes, I stole the following scene from _Dark Angel_.) In the corner, a cloth covered a large object, and Sam approached it. He pulled the cloth down to reveal a piano.

_Bobby has a piano?_

Sam ran his fingers along the top, smiling. He began thinking about Sam from the books—him—now playing the piano. He sat down on the bench, raising his hands to the keys.

Dean frowned as he heard a song being played distantly. "Bobby, what is that?"

"There's a piano in the basement," said Bobby. "My wife used to play. Sam must've found it."

"Huh," said Dean.

He headed to the basement and walked down the stairs. The song was beautiful and haunting. Dean turned the corner to see Sam sitting at the piano, head lowered as he played, hands flying over the keys. (To find out what song Sam is playing, here's the address-it's youtube-: .com/watch?v=9-Y7trsjKxw)

_Wow…_ Dean thought.

Sam hit every note perfectly, his hands flying back and forth on the keys. Dean leaned against the stairs, watching with fascination. Sam's concentrated stare at the keys made him smile.

_Sammy finally found a hobby._

Sam's entire body seemed to move with the song, the way a professional pianist plays. The song came to an end, and Sam lowered his hands.

"That's really good," said Dean.

Sam jumped a little and spun on the bench, looking at Dean. He looked down at his hands sheepishly. "I didn't know you were there."

"Obviously," said Dean.

Sam laughed a little. "It must be weird seeing your demon-hunting kid brother playing a piano."

Dean shrugged. "A little. But I can tell you really enjoy it."

Sam looked at the piano. "I do." He looked back at Dean. "It's kind of soothing in a way. I don't really know what it is, but…it's like the whole world disappears while I'm playing. Like…finally something I'm doing is good instead of a big mess." Sam chuckled a little. "I guess I know why I feel like that now."

Dean nodded a little, realizing. Subconsciously, Sam had retained those feelings from all the mistakes he'd made over the past five years.

"You know any other songs?" asked Dean.

Sam looked up at him, smiling. "Yeah, I know several."

Dean sat on a nearby chest, getting comfortable. "I'd love to hear them."

Sam smiled as he turned back to the piano. He brought his hands up, beginning another song. (To hear this one, here's the address-it's youtube-: .com/watch?v=f05mreVE8kE&feature=related)

Dean smiled. "Hey, I've heard this song before."

Sam laughed as he continued playing.

*************SN***************************

"Alright, come on," said Dean. "Hit me."

He and Sam were in Bobby's backyard. After two days at the house, Sam had begged to be trained. Since the demons were after him and he was Sam Winchester, after all, he felt he needed to knock the rust off his hunting skills.

Sam and Dean were wearing sweatpants and T-shirts with tennis shoes, comfortable enough to move around in.

Sam tensed in anticipation, readying his attack. Dean was facing him, watching him closely. Sam darted forward, swinging a punch to Dean's ribs. Dean dodged it, which was exactly what Sam had been hoping for. As Dean moved slightly to Sam's right, Sam swung his right arm up, using his forward momentum to wrap the arm around Dean's neck. He brought his body to Dean's back, keeping his elbow locked around Dean's throat. Dean patted Sam's arm twice, their signal, and Sam let him go.

"Not bad," said Dean. "Nice diversion."

"Thanks," said Sam.

"Alright," said Dean, readying himself again. "I'm gonna take you down, bitch."

"Not if I get you first, jerk," Sam smiled, readying himself as well.

Dean swung his right leg up suddenly, aiming for Sam's ribs. Sam dropped a couple of inches to bring his arms up, letting Dean's leg bounce off his forearms. As Dean's leg dropped back to the ground, Sam brought his left foot forward to rest behind Dean's left leg. He swung his leg towards himself, knocking off Dean's already altered balance. Dean dropped to the ground, and Sam was there to drive a forearm into his throat, putting light pressure on the windpipe. Dean tapped him twice, and they got up.

"You're getting better," said Dean. "This morning, you couldn't block a single damn attack. It's all coming back, looks like."

"Yeah," said Sam. "Can't believe how easy this comes."

"What do you say we switch to weapons?"

Sam nodded. "Sounds good."

Dean moved over to a duffel he'd loaded up from the Impala's trunk. He grabbed a pistol, handing it to Sam. He also pulled one out for himself.

"Alright, I'll show you how to take it apart," said Dean, demonstrating slowly. "Okay, first you…"

He trailed off s Sam slid the barrel off the pistol, checking the sights and the bullets. He slid the barrel back on, pulled the hammer back and took the safety off, holding it with both hands.

"What now?" asked Sam.

Dean laughed. "Alright." He turned Sam towards the fence three hundred feet away where he had set up empty cans. "Try to hit them all."

Sam placed his left leg forward, his right hand wrapped around the pistol's grip. He raised the gun, his right arm straight, as his left hand supported his right. He moved his head so it was behind the gun, aiming at the cans. He braced himself for the recoil and fired the gun five times, hitting all five cans.

"Great!" said Dean as Sam lowered the gun. "Dude, you'd never know you had a four month sabbatical!"

"I know, right?" said Sam, stunned at his own ability. "I guess I really am a hunter."

Dean looked at his watch. "Whoa, we've been at it for four hours. I'd say it's time for a break."

The two of them headed to the Impala, breaking some beer bottles out of the cooler in the backseat. Dean leaned into the front seat, turning on the radio. A classic rock song came on.

Dean leaned on the Impala next to Sam. "There we go."

Sam frowned as he listened to the music. _I know this song…_

The lyrics started in. _"I never meant to be so bad to you. One thing I said that I would never do. A look from you and I would fall from grace, and that would wipe the smile right from my face. Do you remember when we used to dance, and incidents arose from circumstance. One thing led to another; we were young. And we would scream together songs unsung."_

Sam suddenly recognized the song, and his heart trip-hammered against his ribcage.

"_It was the heat of the moment, telling me what my heart meant. The heat of the moment showed in your eyes."_

Sam suddenly ripped the driver's door open, leaning in and shutting the radio off.

"Hey!" Dean protested as Sam climbed out of the car and leaned against it again. "I thought you liked my music now."

"Not Asia," Sam said quietly, jaw tight. "Anything but that song."

"What's wrong with that song?" asked Dean.

"I'm guessing you don't remember, since you're not the one that lived through it, but that was the song that woke me up every morning those hundred Tuesdays. And before you ask, no, I don't remember. But I've always hated that song. I didn't know why, but I could never listen to it. Now I know."

Dean nodded. "Okay. What do you want to listen to?"

"I don't care. Just anything but that."

Dean pulled a Metallica cassette out and played it. As he leaned on the car next to Sam, "Enter Sandman" began playing.

Sam smiled. "Much better."

They leaned against the car, enjoying the beer and music.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Seven

Sam stood at the Impala, organizing the trunk. It had needed it for a while. He leaned into the trunk, reaching for something in the back.

"Excuse me."

Sam bumped his head as he jumped. He swore as he brought his torso out of the trunk, straightening up. A blonde woman stood at the trunk, holding a flask.

"Can I help you?" Sam asked.

"I'm looking for Bobby Singer," the woman said. "My car needs a touch-up."

"He's not here right now," said Sam.

"Dammit," she said. She leaned against the Impala. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"I'm not sure," said Sam. "Uh, maybe my brother can help. He's kind of a mechanic, too."

The woman looked at the Impala, taking a drink from her flask. "This your brother's car?"

"Yeah, actually."

"I can tell. If he's a mechanic, he's gonna take good care of his car."

Sam chuckled. "You have no idea."

The woman held her hand out. "Meghan."

Sam shook her hand. "Sam."

Meghan smiled. "So, Sam, what brings you and your brother to an old man's salvage yard?"

"He's an old family friend. He's actually kind of like a father to us…the only family we have left."

Meghan nodded. "It must be nice to have someone."

Sam smiled. "It is."

Meghan looked down at her flask and then held it out to Sam in offering.

Sam shrugged. "Thanks." He took the flask and took a drink. When a coppery taste exploded on his taste buds, he brought the flask away from his mouth and looked at the lip of it…red. Sam spat the liquid onto the ground…blood. He looked up in alarm at Meghan, whose eyes turned black.

_It's demon blood,_ Sam realized.

Meghan grabbed him by the throat and forced him to the ground. Sam struggled in her grasp, trying not to let the leftover blood in his mouth slip down his throat. Meghan grabbed the flask and forced it to his mouth, dumping the contents into his mouth. Sam coughed and sputtered as he tried to close his throat against the poison.

****************SN****************************

Dean came out of the house to see Sam talking with a blonde woman at the Impala. Dean froze, becoming cautious.

_Who is that?_

The two of them were talking, and Sam smiled. The woman offered him her flask, and Sam took it. He took a drink, but then spit it out.

_That looks like blood…_

As the woman's eyes turned black, she manhandled Sam to the ground.

_She's trying to feed him demon blood…_

Dean watched in horror as she grabbed the flask and poured it into Sam's mouth amid his protests.

_No!_ Dean thought, rushing towards them.

"SAM!" Dean called as he reached them. He tackled the demon off of his brother, rolling up to a standing position. He glared at the demon. "Who are you?"

"Meghan," she replied. "But you can call me Meg."

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," said Dean.

"You think you could get rid of me that easy?" said Meg. She smiled. "I'll see you boys around." She blew out of her host, leaving.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, rushing back to his brother. Sam was crouched face down on the ground, coughing up the blood. "You okay?"

Sam shook his head. "I swallowed some of it." Before Dean could make a move, Sam proceeded to shove one of his long fingers down his throat. He immediately convulsed and vomited the blood onto the ground.

"Okay, that works," said Dean, rubbing Sam's back through the last of the retches. "You okay?"

"Yeah," breathed Sam. "Help me up."

Dean pulled Sam to his feet, leading him into the house. Dean helped Sam over to a couch.

"Why'd you take the flask?" asked Dean. "Didn't you know something was up?"

"Well, it's not like she was wearing a sign that said, 'Don't trust me. I'm a demon.' I didn't know. She was very convincing."

Dean stared at him. "Convincing?"

Sam looked at him. "Dean, I don't remember anything! Sure, my fighting skills and weapons training may come second nature, but I'm not a hunter! I'm a nursing student! When, or even if, my memories ever come back, we'll see what happens then. But until then, I can't hunt."

Dean nodded. "You're right. Sorry."

"Thanks, by the way, for not going off on me."

Dean frowned. "Why would I? I mean, I saw Meg forcing that stuff down your throat."

"And what if you hadn't?" said Sam. Dean frowned. "What if Meg had succeeded? What if I had come into the house with blood on my mouth?" Sam looked up at him, a question in his eyes. "What would you have done?"

"I would have thought that something bad had happened," Dean answered. "I mean, I know you, Sam. You wouldn't have voluntarily drank that blood. Well, I mean, you did, but it was to lock Lucifer away. You wouldn't do it again."

Sam smiled. "Thanks. It's nice to know that after everything we've been through the past two years, that you still have some faith in me." Sam closed his eyes, frowning in disgust.

"What?" asked Dean.

"You got anything to wash the taste out?" asked Sam.

"Yeah," said Dean. He went to the kitchen and came back with two cups, one full of water. "Here ya go."

"Thanks," said Sam. He accepted the water and took a mouthful, swishing it around and spitting it in the empty cup. He wiped some pinkish liquid from his lip, staring at it on his hand. "Ew…"

Dean chuckled. "Good thing you can't remember the past two years."

Sam smiled. "Yeah."

**Two days later…**

Sam stood at the kitchen sink, cleaning dishes. He had his headphones in, listening to Nazareth's "Hair of the Dog."

Dean walked up behind him. "Sammy." Sam couldn't hear him. Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, and Sam dropped a plate into the water-filled sink. He looked up at Dean, eyes wide. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay," said Sam, taking one of the headphones out. "I shouldn't have had it up so loud." He looked up at Dean, picking the plate back up. "You need something?"

"Just checking on ya, Sammy," said Dean. Sam winced a little as he looked back at the sink. "What?"

Sam turned back to him. "It's just…when you call me Sammy…it just reminds me of everything I can't remember. I hear, 'Sammy,' and all I can think is 'That's not me. That's Dean's brother.'" He sighed. "I just don't know who I'm supposed to be anymore."

"Maybe I can help with that."

Dean and Sam looked up to see Chuck in the living room.

"Chuck?" said Dean. "What are you doing here? I mean, last I heard from you, you were working on the last book. Where've you been? More importantly, how did you get here?"

"Wait," said Sam, looking at Dean. "Chuck? As in…"

"As in, Carver Edlund, yeah," said Dean.

Sam looked at Chuck, eyes widening. A smile began forming on his face. "You wrote the Supernatural books?"

Dean snorted at Sam. "Geek."

Sam looked at him. "Shut up."

Chuck nodded. "Yes, Sam, I did. That, and so much more." He came closer, stopping just inside the kitchen doorway. "And I've come to do one last thing for you."

Sam looked at Dean, his eyes catching something.

"What does that mean?" asked Dean.

"Dean," said Sam, staring at him.

"What?" asked Dean, looking at him. Sam gestured to his chest, and Dean looked down at his amulet that Sam had given back when they arrived at Bobby's. The amulet was _glowing_. "What the hell…" Dean looked up at Sam and then over at Chuck, eyes wide. "You?"

"Yes," said Chuck.

"It was you the whole time?" asked Dean.

"Yes," said Chuck.

"So, the prophet writing our gospel…was God this entire time?" asked Sam.

Dean shrugged, looking at Sam. "Well, the Bible is God's Word. Makes sense."

Dean looked back at Chuck, completely missing the dark look that passed over Sam's face. "So, what, you raise Sam and decide to have a little fun?"

"You said it yourself, Dean," replied Chuck. "Sam's hell made your tour look like Graceland. You cannot imagine what he went through, even if it wasn't nearly as long as yours. If I had brought him back as he was…he would have cracked. He would have broken…probably spent years or maybe the rest of his life in a catatonic state. He needed time to deal subconsciously. Now, he is ready."

"You'll bring him back?" asked Dean.

"Yes," said Chuck.

Chuck was suddenly shoved up against the kitchen wall, Sam's fists in the front of his shirt.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, stunned.

Sam's jaw was clenched, and he was glaring at Chuck. "I don't want anything from you! How could you do this to me? How could you play with my life, with **our **lives? I locked Lucifer up for you! I sacrificed myself to stop the apocalypse, and this is how you repay me?"

"Sam, I only want to help," said Chuck.

"No," said Sam, shaking his head. "You've done enough."

Sam let Chuck go and stormed toward his guest room.

"Sam!" Dean called, beginning to rush after him.

Chuck placed a hand on Dean's arm. "Let him be, Dean. He needs time."

Dean stared after his brother, listening to him slam the bedroom door. Dean sat down on the living room couch. "How am I gonna get my brother back if he doesn't want to come back?"

Chuck sat down next to him. "It's all very sudden for him. Give him time to think."

**One hour later…**

Sam sat on his bed, staring at his hands. He was holding a picture of his parents and sister in one hand, and a picture of Dean and Sam on the Impala's hood in the other. He was looking back and forth between the two, contemplating his decision.

_Which life am I meant to live?_

His sister smiled up at him, sandwiched between his mother and father…normal, happy, together, successful, safe.

Sam looked over at the other picture: Dean laughed with his brother on his beloved car…abnormal, happy, together, hunting, surviving…

_I don't know what to choose._

If Sam chooses Winchester, he gets all his horrible memories back, a dead mother, a dead father, dangerous job, guilt from the apocalypse, demons, vampires, ghosts, his true life.

If Sam chooses Turner, he gets a family, a life, a college career, parents, safety. But he would always know that it wasn't real.

Sam looked over at the photo of Dean, thinking back to the books he'd read.

_-"Because I'm the oldest, which means I'm always right."_

"_No, it doesn't."_

"_Yeah, it totally does."_

_-"Hey, Sammy, who do you think is the hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?"_

_-"Well, he's not stupid. He picked the handsome one."_

_-"How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?"_

_-"You think about fairytales often?"_

_-"I'm gonna stop the big, bad wolf…which is the weirdest thing I've ever said."_

_-"You stink like sex."_

_-"Aw, he's trying to play hard to get. That's cute."_

_-"Aw, look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend."_

_-"Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I'm gonna whack you with a spoon!"_

"_I didn't do anything."_

"_Well, you were thinking about it!"_

_-"How'd you get here?"_

"_I, uh, stole a car."_

"_Ha-ha! That's my boy!"_

_-"Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel."_

_-"That fabric softener teddy bear—ooh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down."_

_-"Young girl's been kidnapped by an evil cult."_

"_Girl got a name?"_

"_Katie Holmes."_

_-"Maybe you're thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain."_

_-"What's the matter, Sammy? Afraid you're gonna get a little Nair in your shampoo again?"_

"_Alright, just remember you started it."_

"_Oh, bring it on, Baldie."_

_-"I was sleeping with my peepers open?"_

_-"What do you want to do, poke her with a stick? Dude, you're not gonna poke her with a stick!"_

_-"I know what you're thinking, Sam: why'd it have to be clowns?"_

_-"Damn, that dead chick can run."_

_-"I think I'm adorable."_

_-"Oh, yeah, that wasn't me either. That was a shapeshifter creature that only looked like me."_

_-"And I don't know what the hell this is."_

"_You mean, Karly's myspace address?"_

"_Yeah, myspace, what the hell is that? Is that like some kind of porn site?"_

_-"You got a neighbor named Mr. Rodgers?"_

_-"No, we were talking about our feelings, and then our favorite boy bands—yeah, we were talking a case!"_

_-"There's a really good hangover remedy: it's a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray."_

_-"Dude, you like, full-on had a girl inside you for, like, a whole week. That's pretty naughty."_

_-"Oh, yeah, it's just your typical haunted campus-alien abduction-alligator in the sewer gig."_

_-"Wreaths, huh? Are you sure you didn't want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer."_

_-"Should we dim the lights and sync up _Wizard of Oz_ and _Dark Side of the Moon_?"_

"_Why?"_

"_What did you do during college?"_

_-"And me? Having a real moment, deep revelation, that's what you come back with? And me?"_

"_Would you like a poem?"_

"_Moment's gone."_

_-"I see they improved your face."_

_-"So, you got side-lined by a thirteen-year-old girl?"_

"_Oh, shut up."_

"_Just saying, you're getting rusty there, kiddo."_

Sam smiled as he looked down at the photo in his right hand. He crunched it up in his hand and tossed it in the corner, looking at the photo in his left hand and making a decision.

**************************SN*************************************

"So, you gave Sam a normal life to give him an anchor while his mind unconsciously dealt with hell?" asked Dean.

Chuck nodded. "And now you'll be his anchor." Dean looked up at him. "This will still be hard on him. The past four months have helped him move past the major trauma, but he will need you when he gets his memories back."

Dean nodded. "**If **he gets his memories back."

Chuck sighed. "When he comes around, I will give him his life back." Chuck placed a hand on Dean's arm. "I hope you realize how much you mean to Sam. You could very well be the difference, between healing and breaking for him."

Dean looked at him. "I won't leave him. He's my brother…Nothing can change that."

"You're right," said Sam. Dean looked up to see him in the doorway. "I am your brother." He looked at Chuck. "Do it."

Chuck nodded, standing and approaching Sam. He raised a hand and held it over Sam's chest. He looked into Sam's eyes. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam closed his eyes as Chuck placed his hand over Sam's heart. Sam felt a wave of dizziness sweep through his head as Chuck reversed his mojo, replacing one life with another.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Eight

Dean waited as Sam stood in front of Chuck with his eyes closed. Slowly, Sam's eyes opened, and he looked around in confusion. When his eyes lighted on Dean, they widened, and he began breathing faster.

"Dean?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, Sam," said Dean. "It's really me. You're back."

Sam's eyes darted back and forth, as though he wasn't sure what he was seeing. As Dean slowly approached him, he backed up into the hall, slamming into the wall.

"Easy, Sammy," said Dean. "Easy."

Sam pressed himself into the wall, unsure of where to go as his resolve began to crumble.

Dean held his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture. "I'm here, Sammy. I'm here."

Dean finally reached Sam, who tensed as Dean pulled him into his arms. Sam remained tense and immovable for all of two seconds before he collapsed in Dean's arms. They both went down to the floor, Dean holding Sam in his arms. Sam clung onto Dean, holding him close.

"Hey, I'm here," said Dean. "You're safe. I'm not going anywhere."

Sam drew in shaky breaths as he grasped at Dean. He began sobbing as Dean held him tight.

"You're safe, Sammy."

Sam loosened his grip as his head fell onto Dean's shoulder. Dean pulled him back to find out he'd passed out.

"Dammit," said Dean. He looked up at Chuck. "Thanks, Chuck. I got it from here."

Chuck placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Take care of him."

Dean nodded. "I will."

Chuck disappeared, and Dean pulled Sam into his arms. He carried him back to his bedroom, settling him under the covers.

"I'm right here, Sammy," said Dean. "I'm not going anywhere."

**Five hours later…**

Dean was jolted out of his semi-conscious vigil when he heard a whimper from the bed. Sam was tossing and turning under the covers. Dean came to stand next to Sam's bed, leaning over him.

"Sammy," Dean coaxed gently. Sam seemed to calm slightly at Dean's voice. Taking his cue, Dean placed a hand on Sam's shoulder as he sat on the bed next to him. "Sam, wake up. It's me, Dean."

Sam's eyes opened and locked onto Dean. He clasped onto Dean's hand, squeezing it to prove it was real.

"You okay?" asked Dean. Sam looked up at him. "Sorry, stupid question."

Sam nodded shakily. "I'm okay. I'll be okay."

"You sure?" asked Dean. Sam nodded, loosening his hold on Dean's hand, but not letting it go. "You need anything?"

"Water," said Sam.

"Okay," said Dean. He looked down at Sam's grip on his hand. "I'm gonna need my hand." Sam's eyes widened at the thought that Dean was leaving. "Hey, hey. I'm just gonna be in the next room, okay? I'm not leaving, but I have to get up. Is that okay?"

Sam nodded and slowly released Dean's hand. Dean stayed with Sam a couple more seconds before getting up off the side of the bed. He began humming as he made his way out the door, making sure Sam heard him while he moved to the kitchen. He quickly got a cup of water and returned to the room. Sam was now sitting against the headboard, and he released a held breath when he saw that Dean had returned and not left or been taken.

Dean smiled warmly as he quit his humming. He handed over the water. As Sam took great gulps, Dean took in the sweaty brow, dark eyes and pale skin on Sam's face. "You look like death warmed over."

Sam lowered the cup, looking at Dean in confusion. He then cracked a smile, laughing. "Right back at ya."

"Hey, I am the picture of health and beauty," said Dean.

"Sure, Dean," said Sam. "Whatever you say."

The both of them laughed a little.

Dena watched Sam for a moment. "You okay?"

Sam looked up at him and back down at the blankets. "Honestly…" he looked up at Dean, "no." He smiled. "But I'll be okay. We'll get through this."

"We?" asked Dean.

"Yeah, we. I mean…you're my brother. It's why I chose to come back."

"You remember the last four months?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's not like God traded one set of memories for another. He just…pulled the mask off."

Dean frowned. "That's a good question: why would you give up your perfect life and family and future for **this** life?"

Sam frowned, staring incredulously at Dean. "You seriously have to ask me that?"

"No, it's—the only memories you had were from the books. Why would you willing become a hunter and choose that life?"

"Well…I had the books." Sam shifted on the bed, preparing to explain. "It's one of the reasons why the books appealed so much to me in the first place. I wanted that family."

Dean frowned. "I thought you had the perfect family."

Sam huffed out a laugh. "No." He quickly corrected himself. "Not that they were horrible, but they certainly weren't perfect. I wanted a family that wouldn't judge me." He caught Dean's confused look. "You know what I mean. I wanted a family who would love me no matter what. Whenever things were bad or I was stressed, you know who I ran to?" Dean shook his head. "Friends…classmates…coworkers. I only went to the Turners when it got really bad. I wanted a family so close they were your best friend. That's what I'd been missing the past four months. Yeah, sure, we may be cursed, we may not have any family left, we may be in danger on a near day-to-day basis, and either one of us could get killed on the next hunt…but whatever they threw at us, we still chose family. That's why I came back."

Dean smiled as Sam finished, and they looked at each other for a moment.

"That conversation was way too healthy for me," said Dean. "I'm officially uncomfortable now."

Sam laughed. "See, now that's what I missed."

"I'll be sure to keep it up, then," smiled Dean.

"You boys back here?" called Bobby as he appeared in the doorway. He stared at Sam. "We taking a sick day?"

Dean and Sam began laughing.

"Chuck showed up," said Dean. "Gave Sam his memories back."

Bobby frowned. "Chuck did?"

"Oh, yeah," said Dean. "Chuck is God."

"You're shitting me," said Bobby.

Sam laughed. "That's what we said."

"Well, good to have you back, Sam."

Sam smiled. "Thanks."

**Two days later…**

Sam walked down the basement stairs, heading for the piano.

_I wonder if I still remember how…_

Dean looked up at Bobby as he heard a song coming from the basement.

"I didn't think he'd go back down there," said Dean.

He headed to the stairs and into the basement, making himself comfortable. Sam was playing something fast and familiar. (To hear it, here's the address-it's youtube-: .com/watch?v=2xFPLWNyu9k).

_Hey, I know that music,_ Dean thought. _That's pretty good._

Sam finished, shaking his head and laughing.

"Decided to serenade us?" asked Dean.

Sam looked back at him. "I didn't know I could still play. It's actually kind of fun."

"It looks fun," said Dean. "Anyway, Bobby's found a job in Santa Fe. A guy murdered inside his house, all windows and doors locked. Cops are baffled: apparently, the guy choked on a letter opener."

"Sounds like vengeful spirit," said Sam. "Or maybe witches."

"Let's find out," said Dean, holding out a hand.

Sam smiled and grasped Dean's hand, letting him pull him up. "Back to the hunt?"

Dean smiled. "Back to the hunt!"

THE END


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